Galestrom
by Medea Smyke
Summary: Galestrom: a large, powerful or surly whirlpool of Gale emotion. A few years down the road from Redux, are Gale and Madge still happy? Gale has a bad day. Madge tells him a little story. AU - completed in four chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: This ficlet has been sitting on my computer for a while. I wrote it as a pre-Redux backflash but never found occasion to use it.

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**Chapter 1**

_"I hope you'll never regret what promises to be a disgustingly earthy relationship."_ Waldo Lydecker, _Laura_.

_The meatloaf is burning_, I think to myself. I can't smell it. I can't see it. But I know that it is. And somehow Daisy must know it and wants it to happen as she kicks her legs in the air, not letting me put her diaper on – not letting me rescue dinner. Maybe if I told Rowan to hold onto her so she won't roll off while I dash out…that's a horrible idea. He can't even reach the top of the changing stand. He'd probably watch her tumble off and wait to see if she'd bounce.

I wonder when my life devolved into pulling my daughter's feet into cotton bloomers and my goals to save meatloaf?

Just as I gain a victory with Daisy's left leg, the front door slams open and closed again with a small crash, echoing through the kitchen and down the hall. The sound startles all three of us.

"Gale? Is that you?" I call from Daisy's room. There's no answer but I can hear the heavy tread of Gale's boots over the wooden floor. He's coming down the hallway.

Rowan's curly, black head perks up from where he's playing with a toy on the rug. "Dad? Dad? Dad?" he chirps with his high toddler voice. He hikes his round diaper butt into the air and pulls himself into an upright, if wobbly, position. Then he toddles out the door with his wooden tank engine in hand. Good, now he'll have a playmate.

I quickly finish dressing Daisy, getting her head stuck in the neck of the dress, then trying to pat down her hair. It's straight and black like Gale's and radiates around her head at insane angles. Somehow, none of our children were born with manageable hair. With her large, gray eyes, Daisy looks a bit like an infantine mad scientist who just received a shock.

Gale disappears into our bedroom just as I step into the hallway. I follow him in, leaning against the doorframe to watch as he pulls his shirt off, revealing a nice set of back muscles. He tosses the grimy shirt into the basket by the closet. Rowan leans over the wicker side, reaching for the shirt and nearly falling in. He loses his train.

"Train! Train! Train!"

Gale twists around, noticing his son for the first time. "What, Rowan?"

Rowan's voice reaches a hysterical pitch now that he has dad's attention. "Train! Train! Train!"

"Oh." Gale pulls out the toy and hands it back to Rowan, but doesn't offer to play with him like he usually does. Rowan accepts the toy and starts making choo-choo sounds as he rolls the train along the lip of the basket. I glance back at Gale and have to tear my eyes away from his musculature to observe his face. His eyelids droop and his mouth is set in a firm, thin line. Looks like stress.

I step inside the bedroom, floorboards creaking under my feet. Gale nods at me. "Hi."

"Hi yourself," I reply. "Tired?"

"Yeah," he grunts, dropping onto the mattress. He grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Spent most of the day on the back of a four wheeler on the bumpiest road this side of he—" He spots Daisy on my hip and stammers. "Er –heck. And then Drew rode his too roughly and killed the motor. We weren't halfway to the site yet. Tried to fix it and couldn't. By the time we got to Blue Ridge the crew wasn't even ready to start clearing. Stupid mess, the whole day."

"How much will that set you back?" I ask over Rowan's choo-chooing. The longer it takes to clear the woods east of the town, the longer it will be before our fledgling settlement receives some badly needed revenue from the houses that will go up.

Gale groans. "I don't want to think about it."

I walk over and kiss his head. "Well, dinner's almost ready." That's usually good news, right?

"What is it?" he asks hopefully.

"Meatloaf."

He catches himself halfway through a grimace and manages a weak smile. "Mmm."

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. Take Daisy for me, so I can finish up."

Gale throws on a clean shirt, then takes the baby. Daisy promptly pukes on him. A martyred expression crosses his face, as if to ask,_ Why did you hand me a loaded baby?_

I raise my hands in the air. "Now you know what my day's been like," I joke. Gale's nose wrinkles.

"The meatloaf's burning. Smelled it on the way in," he grumbles when he realizes he won't get any sympathy from me on that score. He sets Daisy in the laundry basket where she can't roll away and changes for a second time. His method leaves something to be desired but I sneak off down the hallway without any children on my hips while I still can.

Fifteen minutes later, dinner's on the table. Only slightly overdone. Gale hustles the kids in, juggling a squirmy Daisy in one arm and Rowan hanging around his neck. The children sit in their highchairs, while Gale and I sit across from one another. He's on Rowan duty and I've got Daisy. So far we've managed to synchronize eating and feeding remarkably well. I have no idea what we'll do if more kids come along. Ask Posy to move in?

I sit down for the fifth time after chasing for the salt, then napkins, then grabbing a fresh gallon of milk from the fridge, amongst other things. Just as I place my napkin across my lap again, Rowan accidentally sets his freshly-filled sippy cup down halfway on his plate. It topples over and the lid pops off, spilling milk all over Gale's dinner and cascading over the side of the table.

Gale jumps up, shouting, "Hell's teeth!"

I cringe at the familiar curse, then run around the table, pulling a dish rag off of the oven door handle and start dabbing up the mess. Gale swipes at his pants with his napkin, but he's wet through and milk's dripping all over the floor.

"Hell!" Rowan repeats, banging on his dinner plate with a spoon while milk runs off the table onto his papa's shoes. "Hell! Hell!"

"That's enough, Rowan," Gale reprimands harshly, turning the force of his ominous eyebrows on our son.

Rowan's eyes grow large under the death stare and then the tell-tale tremor begins in his lips. _Oh no_.

Rowan melts into a fit of tears and hiccups. And when Rowan cries…Daisy cries.

"_Gale!" _I hiss under my breath. "He's only repeating what he heard _you_ say."

Gale throws his soiled napkin on the table. It squelches when it lands. "Is it too much to ask that I come home from work and enjoy a quiet meal?" he grouses. "Without my clothes getting destroyed and kids having hysterics?"

I quickly squeeze Gale's hand to quiet any other outbursts that might be coming. He pulls away from me and leaves the table. Leaves me with two crying babies and a mess to clean up.

I slump into his chair and the puddle of milk that formed within the dip in the seat.

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To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Spring break seems to agree with me. It helps that these chapters will all be quite short. ;) Happy reading.

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**Chapter 2**

I put the kids to bed as soon as I can calm them. Then I hunt down Gale. He's perched on the couch in the den, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. I stand in the doorway, observing him for a moment. He's very interested in some invisible speck on the carpet.

After what we've been through with the war, spilled milk isn't worth getting upset over. When Gale flies off the handle like he did during dinner it's because of something else that's bothering him. Four years have taught me that. I can coax it out of him if I'm patient enough, but that isn't always easy these days. We're both tired all the time. Sometimes it seems like life revolves around the kids and work and keeping the house standing. When is the last time we really got to talk or enjoy one another? In fact, when he stalked off after making Rowan cry, I would have gladly brained him with a rolling pin rather than go the diplomatic route like I am now.

While the rolling pin might satisfy one small frustrated part of me, that's really not going to help the situation. I take a few deep breaths and creep over to the sofa.

The springs ping as I sink down next to him and wait.

"Sorry, Madge," he murmurs without looking at me. "I blew it."

"You had a pretty rough day."

He snorts.

"Want to talk about it?" I touch his shoulder, trying to make some kind of connection.

Gale shrugs and sits up straight. "There's not a lot to tell. Except….," he frowns at the carpet, "a friend of yours showed up at the worksite today. He arrived before we got there."

"Who?" I ask. What friend of mine would possibly show up to their worksite? When's the last time I got out of the house? Do I still have friends? Hmm.

"A developer," says Gale bitterly. "He chewed us out for falling behind schedule."

"I don't know any developers," I point out. I'm not even sure I know what a developer is.

Gale starts cracking his knuckles. The popping sound makes me shudder. "He wasn't one when you knew him," he says.

"What's his name?" I reach over and cover Gale's hands with mine, silently putting an end to the cracking.

"Sorry," he mumbles, taking his hands back. "Cole Phillips."

"Cole?" I don't recall. I give Gale a wry smile. "You're making this up."

"I'm not making it up. Remember this?" Gale hooks his finger in front of his nose and gives me an impudent, sidelong glance.

Curled finger, nose…humped nose…hooked nose! "Oh!" I gasp. An unexpected laugh erupts from me. I swat Gale's arm, but he's already caught me laughing so it has no effect. "Gale, you're awful."

The atmosphere in the den lightens palpably the way it always does when two close friends share an old joke.

"Hook-nosed Cole," he says with no small amount of relish. "The guy you dated a few times."

"Only to be polite," I remind Gale. "I didn't even like him. He just wouldn't leave me alone."

Gale makes a sour face. "Yeah, well, now he's some rich businessman in fancy clothes with a real asshole attitude."

"He's the one that yelled at your crew?" That seems hard to believe, I remember Cole as a slight, awkward figure. Not someone to push anyone else around. But who knows? Maybe he's one of those types that changes for the worst when he tastes power. The thought makes me bristle all over.

Gale leans back on the couch, sitting shoulder to shoulder with me. "He made his ire known. Must get a lot of wind through that beak of his."

A shot of anger warms me all over. How could Cole treat grown men that way? And since when did that skinny, greasy kid think he could push my husband around?

"That's rude. He probably doesn't even know what it takes to do what you do, day in and day out. With faulty equipment and stupid guys like Drew getting in the way. Ugh," I rage in Gale's defense.

His lips twitch with amusement. "Wish you'd been there to set him straight."

"Well," I huff. Mentally, I shift the victim of my rolling pin from Gale to Cole, which is good strategy on Gale's part.

"Although— never mind," he says, distracting me from mentally beating Cole.

"What?" I blink at him.

Gale shrugs again. "Forget it."

"What were you going to say?" I poke his side. "Spill. You left me with two screaming kids – who you're teaching to swear, by the way – you owe me."

Gale looks like he'd rather chew toe nails. But he knows he owes me. "Cole took up residence in the town. He'll be here for a while to keep an eye on our crew." Gale's lips curl in a wry frown. "You're bound to run into him again. I thought maybe seeing this new, shiny Cole again would make you regret," he waves his hand toward the walls, "this."

My eyebrows contract in confusion. "This?"

"Me," he says quietly. "This tiny house. My tiny paycheck. My temper."

I glance around the living room: another sofa; rocking chair with a pile of library books next to it; pictures on the wall with a little bit of dust on them; the kids' brightly-colored toys stacked precariously in the corner; the fireplace. This is my favorite room in the house. We all have a stake in it. It's small but it's warm. This is where live as a family.

"Gale, we have everything we need. Why would I regret our life together?" I ask, trying to convey my confusion. "You make it sound like I didn't know what I was getting into when I married you."

"Did you?" he challenges.

"Yes, I did. Sort of." I bite the inside of my cheek. I mean, as much as you can, I guess. "Are you worried about me or…," my voice trips as a horrible question surfaces, "or did seeing Cole make _you_ regret how things turned out?"

Gale stares at his fists like they have some great wisdom to impart. He's not denying anything and it makes my heart heavy.

"I keep thinking about guys like Cole. They work in an office all day. Don't have to worry about cold temperatures or blistering heat." Anger threads its way through his voice as he continues unloading himself. "They sit on their butts doing nothing and get paid a ton for it, while guys like me are breaking our backs for a fraction of the paycheck. They can afford housekeepers and whatever. Their wives probably don't have to wear clothes with baby snot on 'em."

I glance down at my blouse. Sure enough, Daisy left a present on my sleeve. Oh well. "I honestly couldn't see you enjoying a fancy office job," I tell him bluntly, trying not to feel as hurt as I do. "Pushing paper all day? Wearing a fancy suit? Since when did you ever want that?"

Gale gives me a long look. "I don't. But I always figured that the kind of guy you'd end up with. Not some meathead like me."

And so we get to the heart of the matter. Gale's not upset about Rowan upsetting dinner. He's insecure about the kind of life he's given me and then some _suit_ makes him feel like a failure at work. Double trouble. But it just came out really, really sideways.

"Gale, why would you think that?"

"Mayor's kid."

I groan. This is my least favorite subject – the disparity between our upbringings.

"It doesn't matter to me if my father was the mayor or not. I don't even know why you're bringing this up again after four years of marriage and two babies." It's completely irrelevant. _I _don't even remember it half the time anymore.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure your father would have been thrilled to find out you married me," he counters bitterly.

We rarely discuss my parents. Gale didn't know them. The way they died makes it painful for me to recount stories. Even after all this time I still feel guilty for surviving when they didn't. So, it's not completely Gale's fault that he has no frame of reference, but still. He shouldn't form opinions he can't support with fact.

"You didn't even know my dad," I whisper.

Gale gives me a pitying look. "I'm a lumberjack. That's a step up from a ditch digger," he points out. "What every dad hopes for."

I pull my fingers through my hair. All this talking in circles makes me tired. "Honestly, I don't think my dad would have minded," I say slowly as a faded memory floats to the surface of my mind.

"No?" Gale says skeptically. "Even though Seam-Town relationships have never ended well?"

Well, there's the rub. Katniss, Peeta, Gale and I make two couples engaging in a social experiment that has a history of failure. But that was back in Twelve. We're living in a completely different town, under different circumstances. We're different people.

"Until now," I tell him stubbornly. "Haven't ended well until now."

"I can't even handle the kids."

"You do fine with the kids," I tell him, nudging his leg with my foot. "Everyone loses it once in a while. You'll make it up to Rowan later. You're his favorite person in the world."

He snorts his skepticism.

"Gale, let me tell you a story about my dad."

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**To be continued**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **I wrote this piece before MJ was released (a loooong time ago), which means I didn't know that Peacekeepers couldn't get married. It's a tangential detail, but whateves. Also, this takes place after the Quarter Quell announcement. Slight reference to _Repaid._

Shameless plugging: I updated "Oh! You Pretty Things" on my blog. The link can be found on my profile.

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**Chapter 3  
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School let out in the afternoon. I took my time getting to my quiet house in the Officials' Circle. The trail of children thinned out through the town until I was the last one on the cracked sidewalk. My home stood the furthest from the Seam and the town. None of the other officials had children.

I didn't tell anyone this, but I liked school. The subjects weren't always interesting, but at least people surrounded me everywhere I went. And though the conversations weren't usually my own, I could listen in. It beat talking to myself.

Hanna, our housekeeper, usually took off when I'd get home from school because I could take over checking on my mother and making dinner. But she made a habit of staying later after the Quarter Quell announcement. I think she knew my feelings on that subject without me having to tell her. She made me a cup of tea before she went that day and talked to me about the field trip my class took last week to the mines. I told her about our tour guide teasing us about going to see a shrine they built to the devil. Hanna clucked her tongue repeatedly throughout the story. Then she had to go.

I knew that I should see if my mother's head troubled her, but that day I felt like rebelling against my duties. I just wanted to take a nap and forget what lay ahead for all of us in Twleve. As I walked down the hallway of the second floor, my dad poked his head out of the door to his office. He was the mayor of District 12, so I felt surprised to see him before dinnertime on a weekday. Running things around Twelve kept him pretty busy around the clock.

I stopped and stared at his shiny forehead. A fringe of faded yellow hair stubbornly refused to give up on him, but that was mostly along the sides and back of his scalp.

"Hi, Dad."

"Ah, Madge." He smiled. "Why don't you come in for a moment? I want to speak to you."

"Okay," I murmured, reluctantly stepping in after him. I guess you could say I had a guilty conscience, so being in the office _with_ my dad didn't feel so good after all the time I spent in here alone. For nearly two years now, I'd been sneaking around his back and taking his newspapers on days when he had to work in the Justice Building. As far as I knew, he didn't suspect his quiet, otherwise obedient, pianist daughter of treachery.

Dad closed the door behind me. Wooden shelves lined most of the walls of the office from floor to ceiling. I had smelled what most citizens of District 12 had not – the scent of old paper and leather-bound books. The only reading anyone does is in school, or from pamphlets directly related to their professions. I took a moment to breathe in the books.

Instead of sitting back in his chair, Dad stepped over to the sofa against the far wall. He patted the cushion next to him. I settled down by his side like we used to do when he'd read to me, and curled my legs up, waiting for him to speak.

Dad scratched his head and checked his pocket watch before starting. "Madge, I wondered if you've considered what comes next for you. Your last school year is almost here and it's time to think about the future."

_What future?_ I wondered. _The one full of endless reapings and watching my neighbors barely get by? One without the only friend I ever had?_ But I knew what he meant, and so I asked, "You mean like jobs?"

"Well, yes," he nodded thoughtfully, "and other things."

"What other things?"

Dad shifted a little on the cushions and spread his arm over the back of the couch, patting my shoulder. That's something he always did when he broached an uncomfortable topic. "Well, Madgie," he said, slipping in my nickname – which sort of negated his assertion that I was growing up, "you're seventeen, and although I am certainly not in a rush for you to grow up, you're at the age when young people start finding one another attractive and…"

My eyes widened as I realized where my dad's discussion headed. "Are you asking if I'm interested boys?" I groaned.

Dad's cheeks turned a little red. "Young men, more or less." He laughed meekly. "Yes."

I shrugged stiffly. "I guess. I mean, yes. I mean, in general." Now I felt my cheeks growing warm too.

"Anyone in particular I should know about?" He arched an eyebrow, giving me a studious glance.

My cheeks scalded over. I lifted a hand to my face to feel if the skin had started to bubble. "Probably not," I replied with a thread of bitterness. A few faces slid through my mind – one, in particular, I lingered over. _That _would never happen, I knew. The longest conversation we'd ever had was more of fight. And he didn't know that I'd brought him morphling, as far as I could tell.

Dad looked surprised. "Oh. Well, I thought maybe…"

I shook my head adamantly. "Nope."

"So, the high price of strawberries is…just that?" I startled and looked hard at my dad. He pretended to clean beneath his fingernails. "Or is there some other reason we paid double for berries these last few years?"

Double? I gulped. I hadn't realized I'd been _that _generous. Had Katniss and Gale noticed? Had they thought anything of it?

"I'm not good at bartering," I bluffed. So, Dad had been on to me the whole time? Humiliation slid like ice into my stomach.

Dad pursed his lips. Eventually, he said, "I see. Well, how about the mad flight through the snow a few months ago?"

My head snapped back. "You knew about me taking Mom's morphling?" I gasped.

Dad rolled his eyes. "Honestly. You and your mother think I don't notice anything." He sighed. "It's a little insulting."

A smile involuntarily edged over my face. "Sorry, Dad. Mom didn't want you to worry about the painkillers."

Dad patted my shoulder again, and I knew he didn't feel mad about it. I supposed being mayor forced him to prioritize. "What I'm worried about," he continued, "is finding my family on Head Peacekeeper Thread's blacklist, or worse, his whipping post. And I'm worried about why my daughter sneaks off into the woods with her friend, gets trapped watching public torture, and then risks herself delivering morphling to a convicted poacher. I'm the mayor, Madge. I didn't get here by being unobservant. It also won't insulate my family from the Capitol's displeasure."

Oh god. If he knew about all that, then what else did he know? And of course he's right about the Capitol. I might have put my parents in danger by my actions. Panic shivered through me, making it hard to anticipate his next questions, and more importantly, my next lies.

"It's nothing to worry about, Dad, and don't read too much into it, okay?" I tried to keep the shaking out of my voice, but I doubt I fooled him.

"And the woods?" he pressed.

I shrugged. "I haven't gone in a while. Not since Thread repaired the fence. It was just a bit of fun."

We sat in silence for what felt like hours, listening to the ticking of the old clock on his desk. Crinkles deepened along Dad's eyes and forehead while he thought about what I'd said…and didn't say.

"So, this Hawthorne fellow…I shouldn't worry about him?" he said, giving me a sidelong glance. "Has he ever expressed his appreciation for the, er, painkillers?"

The implied belief behind that question made my jaw dropped. I clamped my hand over it. I'd never told anyone how I felt about Gale – not even with my mother – and to hear it spoken out loud startled me. "Dad, he's in love with Katniss Everdeen," I stammered. If hearing Dad directly ask about my feelings for Gale felt uncomfortable, confirming his feelings for my best friend felt downright painful. It made it real.

"His cousin?" Dad asked incredulously. "Oh my. Good heavens."

It never occurred to me that my own father would be fooled by that publicity stunt. I spoke without thinking. "They aren't cousins, Dad." And then I backpedaled – realizing we might be overheard. That the Capitol bugged its most important citizens' homes was a matter of course. I whispered, "Although, you probably shouldn't bring that up."

Dad's eyes flickered around the room, knowing full well what I meant. "I see. Well. That changes things a bit."

"Changes what?"

"Madge," he sighed. "I want to make sure that you're taken care of when your mother and I are not around to do it. Not that we plan on dying any time soon, but you never know." He smiled, but I found the subject profoundly morbid. "You're resourceful and intelligent, so I have no doubt that you'll be able to provide for yourself. But, as a father, I certainly hope that you won't have to do that on your own…."

"_Dad!"_ I cried, cringing in embarrassment and nearly jumping off the couch. This conversation had gone all sorts of direction I hadn't wanted it to go.

He lifted his hand, beckoning me to calm down. "And I just want you to know that you have our support, no matter who the young man might be."

I blurted out, "Even if he were from the Seam?" Oops. Obvious much?

"Even so," he replied knowingly. "Or, say, certain well-meaning Peacekeepers."

"_Peacekeepers?_" I spit. "Why on earth would I marry a Peacekeeper? They're vile, repulsive, scumbag dregs of the earth—"

"Yes, I see your point," Dad said wryly. "But for a while there you were slinking around with that ginger fellow, and I thought…"

I deflated against the couch. "Oh…you mean Darius." I leaned my head against my knees. "We weren't sneaking behind your back, Dad. Darius and I are – were – friends. That's all."

I think I heard him mutter something under his breath about _girls_ and _just friends_.

My eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So, why all the good will, Dad? Desperate to get rid of me?"

"Of course not, Madgie." There again with the nickname. Dad retracted his arm and played with his wedding ring. "I wanted to have this talk with you before you made any decisions."

"And you'd be okay with whatever decision I made?"

He smiled a little at that. "To a point. As long as I felt he deserved you. Does it matter where a person comes from? As long as he takes care of you, then the rest doesn't matter. Naturally, I'd prefer to see you settled with the same comforts that we've been afforded, but that doesn't necessarily make a person happy. And you've always had your own ideas about people," he rattled off.

I thought about what he said, how he'd like me to have the same creature comforts that I'd grown up with. A huge house, all the food I needed, a housekeeper. Music. They were all good things. I felt grateful that we had the money to pay for my mom's medication, especially. But money can't stop anyone from feeling lonely or a house from seeming _too _big. I'd rather have a tiny house full of people I loved and who loved me than all of this. And I guess I could put up with a lot just as long as I didn't have to end up like Mr. and Mrs. Mellark, the town's most notoriously unhappy couple. I'd rather be poor and in love than well-off and miserable.

"Well," said my dad cheerfully, breaking into my thoughts. "That was profoundly uncomfortable for both of us, but I hope you'll consider what I've said. Your mother and I love you very much."

As torturous as it was to discuss these things with my dad, it was also kind of sweet once my embarrassment died down. "I'll keep that in mind, Dad, in case I run into anyone special," I told him, squeezing his hand.

"Good," he said, pleased.

I got up to leave, but when I reached the door he spoke again. "Oh, and Madge?"

I turned back. "Yes?"

"If anyone should ask," he said dryly. "It's the personal ads you've been reading in my newspapers, right?"

My eyes bugged. Did I do anything that my dad didn't notice? I tried to play along, but my voice came out sounding strangled, "How did you guess?"

"Just a hunch." He shrugged. "I, for one, enjoy the crossword puzzles on the back page. Anyway, I think you should probably give that up as a bad job and look a little closer to home." He winked. "See you at dinner."

I nodded dumbly, understanding the meaning behind his advice. _I know you're up to something and I want you to stop. _I closed the door between us as quickly as possible. But how could I stop? When delivering the papers to Katniss provided my only link to Gale.

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**To be concluded...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Shameless plug 1**: Check out the Pearl Awards via Mockingjay(dot)net. Some authors you might recognize are up for nomination. ;)

**Shameless plug 2**: Check out "Rebel Like You" by Solaryllis, if you haven't already. It's fragging amazing Gadge. O.O

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**Chapter 4**

Somewhere between the beginning and the end of my story, Gale and I have curled up together on one end of the couch. His head rests on the armrest while I use his chest for a pillow. His arm hangs languidly over my shoulders, finally relaxed. A peaceful quiet settles over us and I feel gratified that Gale's mulling the story over thoughtfully.

And then I feel a rumble in his chest like he's laughing. I lift my head to look at him. "You did pay double for strawberries. That's why we always went to your house first." He grins like that's the funniest thing in the world.

_That's what he got out of it?_ I wonder incredulously.

"It was like stealing from the rich to give to the poor," he says smugly.

"Ugh." I push off of him to sit up, straddling his hips. "I can't believe Katniss let you take advantage of me like that," I half-heartedly scold. "You should be ashamed."

Gale tucks his arms behind his head like a pillow and grins. "You think that it was all my idea?" he exclaims over the accusation. "Katniss suckered you just as much as I did. She's the one who took the money, remember?"

I bite down on the inside of my lip, trying not to smile. "You two were horrible." But we could obviously afford the strawberries, and Gale knows it. In fact, he's more likely to hug himself than apologize.

He tries to look contrite and fails, like he always does when he's secretly (and not so secretly) pleased with himself. "That's probably why your dad was okay with the idea of me as a son-in-law. He wanted a return on his money."

I smirk at him. "Maybe. Or maybe he fancied he'd finally get free strawberries. Family discount."

Gale does some quick calculating in his head, then looks pained. "With my pay right now, it would take me…at least twelve months to work off the extra amount you paid in strawberries over five years. Hell's teeth, you're expensive."

"I'm expensive?"

Gale looks horrified again. "I bet Cole could…"

I clasp Gale's face between my hands, forcing him to look up at me. "If you mention Cole one more time, I do have a rolling pin with your name on it," I threaten. "Did you not just listen to my Very Touching story? Or did you only hear the bit with the strawberries?"

Gale blinks at me, lips puckered like a goldfish between his cheeks. "Well, yeah, it's just that…," I think he says. It's a little jumbled.

"Well, what do you think?" I press.

Gale seizes my wrists to free his face from further squishing. The laughter's gone from his eyes, replaced by something more thoughtful. "You're dad was a little creepy." That makes me smile because it's true. "I mean, he knew all that about you and he was just okay with it," he tells me, looking stunned by all the things my father had figured out.

"Well, he wasn't okay with the newspapers bits," I remind him. "But he supported whatever he thought would make me happy. Even if it involved you – which was a long shot at that point, I know."

"Sorta wished I knew him better," Gale says. "And your mother."

"I wish you did too," I murmur. "They weren't perfect, but they loved me."

"Folks living in the Seam didn't get to see that side of him much. The egalitarian." Gale reaches for a strand of my blond hair and swallows hard. "It would have spared you and me from some misconceived notions."

"I don't think anyone really knew how much he cared about Twelve," I murmur. "His hands were tied by the Capitol."

"You should talk about him more, Madge," Gale says. "It'd be good for, well, both of us."

My throat tightens. "I know."

"I still think you deserve more than I can give you."

I shake my head. "I had everything I needed growing up, except maybe more friends and family. You give me that now." I squeeze his hand that still playing with my hair. "I don't have to feel lonely anymore."

Gale's eyebrows squinch together while he thinks about this. "I'm sorry about today—"

"You already apologized for that." Then I add, "Gale, you should tell me when something's upsetting you, in the future. Especially when you're feeling inadequate. We can fix it before it turns into a Galestrom."

"A _what_?"

"Before your ire explodes at dinner and frightens the children," I explain.

"Oh," he drawls. Then a lazy, fox-like grin spreads over his face. "It does give me an excuse to make things up to you."

"That does pose a problem." I consider a solution for about two seconds. "And there's that little matter of earning that strawberry money."

Gale's eyes flash, the way they always do when he suspects I'm dragging him into something like housework. He wouldn't think twice about cleaning out the gutters, but heaven forbid he learn to use the vacuum cleaner. "If this is a trick to get me to wash the dishes, Madge, I promise it won't work – "

That's not what I had in mind for payback. An intimate conversation like this deserves something better to cap it off. I bend over him, trying to look as enticing as I can with baby snot on my sleeve, then adjust the way I'm sitting until he gets the message and his eyes glaze over.

"So, no dishes?"

"No dishes."

His hands slide up my thighs. It doesn't matter if I've forgotten anything else I might have wanted to add because the conversation's officially over. He settles deeper into the sofa, pulling me down on top of him. My hair falls around us like a curtain, making it easy to forget that we're in the living room. Right now it's only the two of us.

I realize the danger of Gale not eating dinner. He's starving and taking it out on my lips, then my throat. I push myself against his warmth, closer, not close enough. We know each other better tonight than we have in a while, and lying with him like this is another way we're still learning, with our hands, legs and lips.

Gale stops suddenly, running his thumb along my chin. "Do you have a cold?" he asks. His voice sounds keep in his throat.

My brain's too muddled by all my other senses to figure out where that question came from. "No. Why?"

Gale shrugs, then his hand cups the back of my head, pulling me close again.

Sniffle.

"Daddy?"

Sniffle.

We've gotten better at our own version of the freeze dance since Rowan started to walk. Gale groans against my throat and I know what he's thinking. It's amazing we have two kids. It seems like there's always an interruption. He sits up, bringing me with him.

In the archway, Rowan's wiping his runny nose on his pajama sleeve and blinking in the lamplight.

"Why aren't you in bed, Ro?" Gale asks, brushing away strands of my hair still caught on his stubble.

"Bad dream." He toddles over to the couch and reaches for Gale to pick him up. He's sandwiched between us, but it's clear that he's here to talk to his papa, _mano-a-mano._

"What was it this time, big guy?" Gale asks like he's talking to a comrade, rather than someone who's barely three.

Rowan climbs on Gale's lap and wraps his arms around his neck. "A monster wanted to eat mommy," he says with blue, soulful eyes. "You have to save her."

"Mom's right here, kiddo," Gale points out. The line between dreams and reality is pretty slim with children. "She's mostly safe."

Mostly.

Rowan sighs with relief. "Yeah." He lays his head on Gale's shoulder and falls asleep in a minute.

Gale blinks. "That was easy."

I stifle laugh. "See, you're his hero."

"Yours too, remember?" he says smugly. "I fixed that monster good."

"Thank you. I'd hate to be eaten," I reply wryly. For all we know, Rowan didn't have a bad dream, he just saw more than he should have of mommy and daddy and interpreted it in his own way. "But you were probably the monster, too."

Gale gets up off the couch holding Rowan and trying to stretch his back at the same time. "Guess I should tell him I'm sorry for yelling at him earlier," he murmurs thoughtfully.

"It wouldn't hurt," I say, curling up into the warm spot he left behind.

"You should go to bed."

I shake my head against the arm of the sofa. "I'll wait up," I say through a yawn. "You still owe me backpay on those strawberries."

Gale tucks Rowan into bed in record time.

* * *

**Tada! The End!**

I'm nominating myself as queen of the cock-blockage. Why is that never a fanfiction award category? :D Someday I'll be brave enough to write a romantic scene through without children or parents or acts of God or the dreaded fade to black interfering. But it is not this day – I couldn't scar little Rowan more. ;)


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